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by YellowPencils



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M, s02e08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 01:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15086306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowPencils/pseuds/YellowPencils
Summary: When he returns from England, Camille decides to confront Richard.





	1. Chapter 1

Camille could barely take her eyes off him.

After spending the week swinging between the conviction that he would be back and that he wouldn't, she could hardly believe that he was actually sitting across the table from her.

Annoyed, hot and tired, but in the flesh.

"I just can't believe it! How hard is it for an airline to put one suitcase on a plane? _Twice!_ They will be receiving a strongly worded letter from me, mark my words!"

Catherine put a drink down in front of Richard with a laugh, winking at the Commissioner over his head, who smirked into his glass. The others weren't taking much notice.

Camille took the drink her mother passed to her, not turning around to see the knowing smile on the older woman's face. She knew exactly what her daughter was so transfixed by.

"At least you're back now," Camille said with an almost sympathetic smile.

"Yes. Back with no clothes! Not even my toothbrush!"

"I'm sure you're case will arrive soon. You can easily borrow a few things to keep you going. Maybe Dwayne will lend you one of his shirts," she laughed at his face at the latter suggestion, while forcing herself not to think about him with no clothes...

"Yes, thank you, Camille, that is _very_ helpful," Richard replied sarcastically, "I think I will leave all that until I see what the airline say in the morning. With luck, they will have found my case by then."

Camille shrugged as Richard finished his drink and stood up.

"I should get back to the shack. Have a shower. Remind Harry what I look like," he said.

"Wait!" Camille's chair nearly fell over due to the force with which she pushed it back as she hurried to stand, "I'll drive you!"

"Oh. No. That's fine. I don't want to put you to any trouble," he replied.

"I insist," she picked up the keys lying on the table and headed for the door before he could say anything else, waving at the others as she left.

"Camille!" Richard caught up with her on the way down the path outside, "I appreciate the offer, but you really don't have to do this. You should stay. Have fun with everyone."

"It's not an offer. I'm not giving you a choice," she replied without even turning her head, making it very clear that her mind was well and truly made up.


	2. Chapter 2

Neither of them spoke much on the drive to the shack. While Richard continued to mutter about the incompetence of airport staff, Camille concentrated on driving, while sneaking an occasional glance at her colleague, as if to make sure that he was still there.

She hadn't really planned what to do when they arrived at the shack, but she knew she had to do something. The last week had felt like pure hell, she had been craving his presence as much as he craved cups of tea.

It was only after she had found out he was going that she had finally admitted her feelings to herself. The sharp, gnawing pain that had settled itself in her chest and held fast right up to the second he appeared earlier with the Commissioner. Although she had never felt anything quite like it before, she was in no doubt as to what it meant.

They pulled up outside the shack and Camille jumped out before Richard could try and send her away. She followed him inside and closed the door behind her, making it clear that she was staying.

"Drink?" Richard asked, used to her inviting herself into his house by now, albeit unable to resist a pointed remark, "Although I only have water or tea, I'm afraid. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have got some beers from your mother's."

Camille ignored him, then took a deep breath.

"Why did you come back?" she demanded accusingly, her hands on her hips.

 _"What?!"_ Richard replied, looking utterly confused, What sort of question is that? I live here. I have a job, remember?"

"What about London?"

"What _about_ London?"

"Did you want to stay there?"

Richard smiled wistfully for a moment, before shaking his head.

"Why not?" Camille asked, sounding increasingly irritated, "What about the rain? The concrete? The pubs?"

"They were wonderful..."

"So why did you come back?" she interrupted him.

"...for a visit. But I was there for work, wasn't I?"

"So?"

"I was never supposed to stay, was I? I have a job to do. A duty to the island."

"Oh!" Camille over-exagerrated a laugh, "So that's it! An _obligation!_ Is that all this place is to you? Is that all we are to you?"

"Why do I seem to be missing something here?" Richard asked, clearly confused, "I came back because this is my _home."_


	3. Chapter 3

There was a pause as they both contemplated his statement.

"I've never heard you call it that before," she said it a quiet voice.

"I've never said it before. I've never thought it before, if I'm being completely honest."

There was another pause before Camille spoke again, tentatatively.

"Is it...just the job? That you came back for?"  
Richard became suddenly very interested in in the floor, shuffling his feet uncertainly.

"What else would it be?" he asked, directing the question at his shoes.

"You tell me."

There was silence for a few moments as they each waited for the other to speak.

Realising that he was going to keep staring at the floor for as long as necessary, Camille eventually spoke.

"Maybe...a particular person?"

There was no response, but ever the detective, she saw his shoulders tense.

"A woman, maybe?"

Now he became so still, she could have sworn that he wasn't even breathing.

"Richard?" Camille felt her heart thumping in her chest as she willed him to respond.

After another very long silence, Camille knew it was up to her.

"I need to know," she whispered, "If...if you feel the same way that I do."

He visibly froze, taking an age to reply.

"I don't know how you feel," he said to his shoes, shrugging gently.

"Yes, you do. You're just afraid to acknowledge it," she paused for that to sink in, "Which is okay. I was, too. But, Richard, the longer we ignore it the more time we are wasting. I'm not enjoying it anymore. If I ever really was."

"Enjoying what?" his voice casual, but containing an edge of panic.

"Of pretending it's not happening. Of bickering like an old married couple. Of teasing each other. Of tip-toeing around the subject. We're experiencing most of the more annoying aspects of being in a relationship, without all of the good parts!"

"Yes," Richard conceded, "I suppose we are."

"We work together, we have drinks together, I pick you up and drive you home, you make me try English food, I make you try the odd cocktail at my mother's bar. Everyone is practically taking bets on when it will happen!"

"They are?!"

"Of course. They think we belong together."

"Oh."

"What about you, Richard?"

"What about me?"

"Do _you_ think we belong together?"


	4. Chapter 4

Richard finally risked lifting his eyes off the floor, meeting her gaze across the room tentatively.

"It wasn't just the job I came back for," he answered her earlier question instead of the current one.

"It wasn't?"

"No," his gaze became more steady as his confidence grew, "You know it wasn't."

"How can I?" she smiled sadly, "If you don't say it, how do I know what you're thinking?"

"I just assumed...you're so sure about things like this. Why _wouldn't_ you say anything?"

"Because this is different."

"How?"

"It isn't just a bit of flirting with a guy at my mother's bar. Or a blind date. Or a summer fling. Or even friendship. Or colleague-ship, if that's even a word."

"We're not friends?" Richard sounded hurt.

"That's not...of course we are! But we're not _just_ friends. We're not _just_ colleagues. This is scary. It's something I've never felt before"

"What?"

"It's _love,_ Richard. It is on my part, anyway."

She waited for her words to sink in, knowing he had to process them in his own time.

Eventually, he nodded his head. Then he remained still for a while longer, his expression unreadable.

"Mine, too," he said quietly, with a shy smile that disguised the depth of the words.

Tears sprang to Camille's eyes as she breathed out with relief and grinned.

A few more seconds and Camille was standing right in front of him. She reached an arm out slowly and rested it on his upper arm, stroking his sleeve with her thumb.

Then she kissed him.


End file.
